221B
by Shreiking Beauty
Summary: 221B format CRACK!FIC Johnlock Mystrade R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**Parents are arguing; thought I'd drown them out by trying my luck at a few 221Bs! Johnlock &amp; Mystrade! Possibly OOC, sorry**

John sat in his chair, reading the paper, with a steaming cup of tea beside him. The picture was so ordinary, anyone looking in would suspect the scene to be typical of any middle-class flat in London. Until a dark shape crept up behind him.

He didn't even flinch when Sherlock suddenly towered over him and hissed, spreading his arms out so his cape hovered over the two men.

"Sherlock, stop, I'm reading the paper," John mumbled, pulling the paper a bit closer.

"But I'm bored!" Sherlock whispered eerily. John rolled his eyes and smiled affectionately.

"So what made you decide to dress up like a vampire and stalk me?"

Sherlock huffed as though he were offended by the question. "I'm not 'dressed' as a vampire, I _am _a vampire!" He leaned down close to John's face so he would look at him, revealing fake fangs and hissing "_Fear me!_"

"If you're a vampire, how can you be in the sun?" John challenged, nodding toward the stream of sunlight let in through the drapes. Sherlock gasped dramatically and slowly fell to the ground, writhing and hissing in pain.

"Sherlock, you are hopeless," John said, taking a sip of tea as Sherlock weakly spoke.

" . . . _need_ . . . _blood_ . . ."


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft Holmes stood posh as ever outside the hospital room where his brother was being stitched up, and from which came a steady stream of curses. John was inside holding his hand, and Mycroft smirked at the pair.

This was how Detective Inspector Lestrade met him; standing perfectly straight, smirking proudly in a handsome three piece suit, and, as always, holding his trusty umbrella.

_Handsome . . . much like his brother, only not boyish and sexy like him. Manly, proud, responsible . . ._

Greg blushed and cleared his throat, reminding himself that he had a wife. _An unfaithful wife, _his inner monologue added before being hushed once more. Mycroft turned from smirking at his brother through the door to smile politely at Greg.

"Ah, Detective Inspector Lestrade," he greeted. "It's nice to finally put a name to the face."

"Likewise," Greg replied, shaking his hand.

"I do appreciate you dragging my brother here, I'd rather not have him attempt to stitch himself up again."

"Again?" Greg inquired, not at all surprised. Mycroft let out a condescending huff directed at his brother.

"Somehow he never grasped the concept of _sanitation_. Lead to some rather serious infections when he found it suitable to substitute proper stitches with a dirty needle and thread from Mummy's sewing box."


	3. Chapter 3

John buzzed the desk to signal he was ready for the next patient. Without looking at the name on the file, he scanned through their listed symptoms as the door opened.

"Yes, good morning Mister . . ." he began automatically before sighing at the patient who sat on the table, "Sherlock."

"I believe you mean 'Mr. Homes', John."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm sick. Fix me," he demanded.

"Sherlock, if you're just here because you're bored," he threatened.

"That's not the _only _reason I'm here!" John rolled his eyes at his pouting friend and humored him with an unusually long checkup topped off with a placebo prescription and an affectionate pat on the back.


	4. Chapter 4

"This is not my day . . ." DI Lestrade muttered as he walked down an empty street: Not a cab in sight, and raining cats and dogs. He came to a stop when he realized he wasn't sure what street he was on anymore, but he couldn't read the sign through the raindrops.

"Detective Inspector," a voice spoke from behind him. He turned around, surprised, to find Mycroft Holmes holding out his open umbrella for him, and steps under it.

"What brings you out here?" Lestrade asks casually.

"Would you believe me if I said I was out for a walk?" Deciding not to press the matter further, Lestrade just smiles to himself and lets Mycroft walk him down the street.

"Have a drink with me?" he asked hopefully.

"I suppose I could do that," Mycroft answered, equally as casual, though both men sported pleased smirks.

"Not too busy?"

"I'm always too busy, but, as they say, 'all work and no play makes a dull man.'" They tucked into a small pub, filled with people getting out of the rain, and ordered drinks: beer for Lestrade, and red wine for Mycroft.

"I didn't even know they had wine here," Lestrade remarked, raising his glass. "To busy-ness."

"To busy-ness," Mycroft agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

**I just realized I accidently did 122 on chapter 3 and I know chapter 4 doesn't actually end with a B, but come on, points for inventing a word. Sort of.**

**When I first saw this episode, and saw Sherlock driving, I thought 'how the heck did Sherlock get into the driver's seat?' I imagine their conversation went something like this, only longer and more violent maybe. So this isn't 221B but whatever**

When they arrived at Baskerville, Sherlock rented a large black SUV to take them around in. He threw hid bag into the back seat before starting to climb into the driver's seat.

"Hold on, Sherlock, what makes you think you're driving?" Sherlock stopped and looked at John for a moment.

"I paid for it, I get to drive it."

"Do you even know how to drive?"

"Of course, yes, and I have a current license," Sherlock replied impatiently. "Now can we please get going?"

"I really don't know if I trust you behind the wheel, Sherlock," John argued. "Just let me drive."

"No." John took on a firm stance.

"Sherlock, you make me get your phone for you out of your own pocket! Now you won't let me drive? What's wrong with you?"

Sherlock pursed his lips into a firm line. "If you want to drive, get your own car." He then got into the seat and shut the door.

"Sherlock!" He started the engine. "SHERLOCK!" He started backing up. "Okay, OKAY! I'll let you drive!" Sherlock smirked and let me into the passenger's seat.


	6. Chapter 6

"John."

"Hmm?"

"I can't sleep." John groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Sherlock, you said you wouldn't be scared if I let you watch that film with me."

"I'm not _scared, _John. That movie was stupid and dull. It's just . . . too cold." John rolled his eyes.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I think that in the interest of both our warmth, we should share a bed, and furthermore it would be beneficial to sleep up here because it will naturally be warmer." John chuckled quietly.

"If you're really _that _cold, and that's the _only_ solution, I suppose I can't argue, can I?" Sherlock scowled at him.

"_Yes, _John,I'm_ really that cold_." Sighing, John moved over and lifted the blanket, inviting Sherlock in.

Sherlock slid in next to him and curled up on his side, facing him. John turned off the lamp. They laid there for about ten minutes before Sherlock spoke again.

"I'm not scared, John."

"I believe you," John answered unconvincingly.

"But I wasnt' really cold, either."

"I know."

" . . . Then why did you let me sleep here?"

"Go to sleep, Sherlock."


End file.
